Don't Let Go
by Rebellwithoutacause
Summary: "What could he say really? All he could feel was actual happiness and relief. He knew what he wanted, but the shyness and uncertainty had returned. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at her steadily, waiting for the silence to break, or maybe it never would, and that would have been ok too, but she was better with words than he would be." A reworking of 'Coda'.


_**Ladies and Gentlemen, I have returned with another offering for you. Saying I was dissatisfied with the MSF is an understatement of the year, and I figured if any realm had the potential to fix it, it would be fanfiction, so here we are, a fix it fic for the tragedy that happened in Coda. If that isn't your thing, feel free to skip this one, but for those of you that were really hoping for a happy ending, perhaps this can soothe the singed nerves. Enjoy, and as always, reviews are love! Oh, one more detail, _**I was in part inspired to write this from the beautiful song 'Don't Let Go' by Bryan Adams and Sarah Mclachlan. Take a listen and tell me it's not one of the most perfect Bethyl (Friendship or romance) songs you've ever heard. **_**_

_**Warnings: A few swears. **_

_**Disclaimer: Still don't own the Walking Dead. If only. **_

* * *

><p>For all the progress he might have made, everything was still close. His nerves were raw, singed with the blast of gunfire and smoking at the edges where the flames had licked his bones. His whole body felt like an open wound he hadn't been able to bandage over. He'd come so close to losing everything he had worked so hard for, everything he had needed so much.<p>

He could never say it out loud, how much he needed all of them. They all knew, he knew that they did, but he was fortunate in that they didn't try and dig into him for reasons why. It was enough that he was here, that he'd lay down his life for any of them, and in return, they had become the family he had always needed.

But she was different. She was special. She was special because she did dig, she did pull, sometimes with rough, unpracticed hands, grabbing and yanking, pulling him back from the edge of the oblivion that he'd been ready to surrender too. The afternoon at the whiskey still, both of them drunk on moonshine, she hadn't had an ounce of cowardice in her body, and even then, hazed and almost delirious with anger, pain, and guilt, he knew he'd been all wrong about her. She'd plunged her hands deep into the very fiber of his being and yanked him back, tearing open a new hole in his soul.

And that hole was where she now lived. Because as soon as she'd torn him open, she'd slid herself right inside, curled nice and tight, warm and comforting, like the spring sun that shows itself to melt away the last frost of winter. She'd burrowed down deep, humming with her quiet strength, melting away so much of the pain he had to wonder how he had never seen that she had this inside of her all along. The feel of her against his back, holding onto him, holding him together, selflessly giving everything she could, to a man like him who had never deserved it- he didn't understand why. She was clean; beautiful, hopeful, like the sunlight. He was the antonym of everything she was, and yet, it was as if she were blinded to that fact. Normally he'd be calling her an idiot for that, but right then, in that moment, he didn't have the strength to resist her.

Finding the funeral home had been a gift. It had been a way for them to get their feet under them (for Beth, that meaning had been rather literal), and it gave them room to gently explore the parameters of their relationship. Who were they too each other? What had they become? Was there even a name for what they had? Friends? No. They were closer than mere friends. Family? Of course they were family, not bound by blood but he'd of still died for her, and she for him. They did the kinds of things that family did for each other. Picking up the pieces when the world broke apart, swaying to the idea that hope was still possible, and all without asking for anything in return.

Daryl had, had twinges in his heart about maybe she might be his chance for something more. It wasn't as hard to see her in that way as he had thought it would be. She was young, true, but she was probably more of an adult than he was in some ways. There was so much in her that was stronger and more confident than him that it was hard to imagine she was as young as she was. It was just one of the things that had amazed him more about her.

She wasn't the first that had crossed his mind as his chance for something more. Carol of course had been there since the very beginning. He'd stood by at first, but over time, had grown closer and closer until their lives had merged into something he didn't have a name for, but that he clung to and cherished, that he would protect with his life, that he would have given anything to be what it should have been and not what it had devolved into. He understood what she had done, killing Karen and David, trying to protect the group, trying to do what she thought she had to. He didn't like it of course, nobody would have, and sometimes those were the choices that they had to make in this world, but what hung him up on the entire thing was that she'd made it alone. More and more she had isolated herself away from her family, away from the ones who loved her unconditionally. Away from him. She was losing all the light, all the hopefulness, all those things that they needed to stay strong in this world. Slowly at first, and then ever more rapidly, she was turning into stone. He loved her still, he always would, and he would never give up on her maybe one day being able to find the strength to risk hoping for something better. He was no shrink, he didn't have the answers as to how they were supposed to fix what had happened to them, but he did know that two broken tools couldn't repair each other.

That was where Beth was different. The scar on her wrist was a mark of how broken she had been, and yet it was also the line that showed she'd been repaired. She'd survived, she'd made it, she'd found reasons to go on, to keep fighting, to smile, to laugh. To sing. And somehow, she'd done it _after _the prison fell. Somehow, after their world had been destroyed and blown to bits, she'd found her reason why. Daryl wondered if it was maybe her way of honoring her dad, who had never lost faith, had never lost hope, no matter how bad it had gotten. Maybe it was her way of trying to be mentally close to her sister, who had always been strong, proactive, and willing to fight tooth and nail for what she loved.

Or maybe it was just who she was, and Daryl was beginning to think that was the answer. And he also thought that it was that fact that was making him trip and stumble in his own mind when he tried to categorize what she was to him. He didn't know what the future held, he didn't know what he might be capable of one day. He didn't even know if he had it in him to want what Beth would some day want. He knew he still flinched when anyone tried to touch him. He was all too painfully aware of how closed off he was to the idea that he could touch someone else and it be a good thing. But with her he had the idea that it wouldn't always have to be that way. He could trust her in ways he had never trusted anyone else before. Nobody had been as close to him in the same way that she had; not Carol, not Rick, not Merle. She'd seen him at his worst, at his most broken, at his most willing to give up. She'd seen him at his nastiest, when all the hate and rage at the world and what they had lost had come pouring out. She'd seen him take all that aggression and funnel it into her, yelling and spitting in her face as the alcohol poured through his veins exactly how he knew it would and he hadn't had the sense to stop.

And it hadn't scared her away. Neither had his tears, nor had the jagged pieces of everything he had been. One by one, somehow, she'd picked them up and put them back together again, holding on tight, holding him through the pain, riding through the storm with him even though she didn't have to. He would always marvel at the strength in her for that. He'd never understand where it came from or why the hell she'd choose to give it to him. But she did, and all he could be was grateful.

That day at the funeral home had been a God send. They'd found food, fresh water, a few medical supplies. It was like a little safe haven, practically untouched by the hell that was going on outside. Someone, whoever had been living there before, had obviously done a lot to take care of it, including the body in the morgue that had been halfway cleaned up. Daryl had watched the way Beth had taken in the sight of the body, halfway between humanity and undead and had seen how it had pricked something in her. And as she was so oft to do, she was able to turn that back onto him and stir something in him too.

_"Don't you think that's beautiful?"_

He hadn't said a word at the time, but that didn't mean his thoughts were idle. He managed to hold her inquisitive gaze, wondering how the hell she could look at a man like him, covered in scars and filth, and think he'd understand what beautiful was, and yet she believed he did. If he was a braver sort of man, he might have said what was on his mind.

_I think _you're_ beautiful. _

But he had ducked his head low and busied himself with wrapping up her foot and then carrying her into the kitchen, secretly loving the peels of her laughter when he'd scooped her up unexpectedly into his arms. He hadn't heard laughter like that since before the prison fell. It burned away the chill of the outside world and helped him remember what a real life could be like even in this hollowed out shell of a world.

He'd heard her singing long before she'd known he was there. He didn't want to spy on her in a secretive, somehow nasty way, but he hadn't wanted her stop. All those things he'd said about her singing, he'd never really meant it. In truth, he had lashed out at her for that in jealousy; jealousy that she was that brave, that she could own that sort of expression so easily. He liked the sound of her voice, melodic and soft, like birdsong early in the morning before the sun grew scorching hot. The soft press of her fingers on the piano's keys had accompanied her, the two sounds carrying and entwining around each other effortlessly.

_"Go on, play some more. Keep singin'" _

She'd been almost shy then, but not enough to hold back from confronting him, albeit softly.

_"I thought my singing annoyed you." _

He couldn't say all the things that were really on his mind. So he settled deeper into the coffin and gazed at her through half lidded eyes, his voice lazy and thick, wrapping itself in a coating of syrupy slowness to hide the emotion behind it.

_"Well, there ain't no jukebox." _

She'd turned back to the keys and played on, singing some song he'd never heard that he had to wonder if she'd written herself. But the words that lulled him into sleep he heard echoed in his dreams again and again were what he clung to from the moment they'd been parted.

_"And we'll be good." _

He'd been brave enough to suggest that maybe they could stay there, up keep the place, make it work between whoever had been living here before if they decided to come back. He loved the way her eyes had grown bright, the way they'd gleamed with a tiny knowing smirk that was quickly replaced by curiosity. She was so curious, she still wanted to learn, as if she were hungry to know who he really was beneath his hunter's gaze and too long hair. He didn't understand it. It made him squirm, it stole his words, but then again, he'd never been one for talking much anyway.

_"What changed your mind?" _

_"You know." _It was as many words as he was going to be able to get out. He couldn't say it on his own, but he could at least respond this time.

She'd laughed a bit and shaken her head, refusing to accept that as an answer. She always wanted more from him, and sometimes that tug hurt. Growing pains always did.

He'd shrugged, making a non-committal noise, his stomach writhing with some sort of nervousness that he didn't understand. Well, he did understand it, but he wasn't used to it. No one in the world would have probably pegged Daryl Dixon as a man who was shy, but here he was, hardly able to look this girl in the eye, all because of what he knew she'd see. He was beginning to think she knew him better than anybody ever did, and it was knowing that she knew that made it so hard to hold that contact. It was all the things he didn't want to know, wish he didn't know, reflected in her eyes that made it hard to look. But still she pulled, and he was nothing if not a man that would back down from a challenge.

_"Don't mmhm. What changed your mind?" _

He hadn't been able to answer with words, but this time, he'd held her gaze. He had wanted her to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, even if he couldn't put words to it. Well, really only one word.

_You. _

_"Oh." _The softest sound of understanding. He'd watched the way she'd eased back in her chair, the way she'd just barely smiled, most of it gleaming in her eyes. What made it so beautiful was that all of the things he was afraid to see looking back at him just weren't there. There was a quiet softness, a warm security that rippled with curiosity at its edges humming between them. He could have stood to hold that gaze between them for as long as the world would allow, and he almost hoped that it would never end. If nothing ever moved beyond that moment of understanding, that would have been enough for him. It was more than he ever believed he'd get in his life.

And then it had all been ripped away. Torn apart, destroyed. She'd been stolen, taken away from him, snatched away by thieves in the night. It was as if his heart had been ripped out and twisted around a chain and was being dragged by that very same car that had stolen her. Did they not know that they had taken his light away? That they had stolen the only thing he had left in the world that made putting one foot in front of the other worthwhile? They must not have known, but he pursued them relentlessly, determined to not lose her. This wasn't a world of civilization or rules, this was hunt or be hunted, kill or be killed. This was a world where if you didn't fight for everything, you'd lose it just as quickly. He'd grown complacent and lazy at the prison, thinking he and his were safe enough, and the world had proved them wrong with the Governor. Not this time. He wouldn't let it happen again.

When he came to that intersection, he knew for sure he would never see her again. He had lost her and all she stood for, and it killed him inside in a place that no salve or drug or drink would ever heal. He didn't know if he had the strength or the will in him to keep going, but he didn't figure he had a choice. If he was going to die out here, it would be on his own terms, not because these Claimer animals ripped him apart for being the weakest link. His spirit was broken but his flesh refused to let him die.

Reuniting with his family had been the only thing that had given him another spark. Another chance. It was not the same chance he had with her, but it was enough to convince him to keep going. It was as if the universe was screwing with him, dangling a little bit of bait, convincing him to pound the treadmill, desperate for that piece of meat on a hook. The world had snuffed out his light, but there were other candles glowing, and he had no choice but to simply chase after them.

Though he missed her terribly, he was glad she was not there to see Terminus, and the hellhole that it had become. He was glad that her optimism and hopeful nature had not been tainted and torn to shreds by such a place. He didn't know if it would break her or not, but he didn't want to find out. He never wanted to picture a world where she was broken. In some ways, that would be worse than losing her at his side.

Escaping that pit of hell and into the woods was like crawling out of the frying pan and straight back into the fire, but there was a brief reprieve. His legs leaping over dead leaves and roots of trees as he barreled into Carol and caught her in his arms, crushing her against his chest so tightly he was sure she couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe either for the sheer relief of having her in his life again, and he didn't care who saw him now. He'd lost too much to care who saw him now. Smelling her skin, as beaten and bloody as she was, it was like coming home. It was like some of the awful sense of instability could finally fade away. As if he could finally feel safe enough to close his eyes and know that everything would be ok.

It didn't last long of course, because it didn't take long for him to realize just how damaged she had become. It hurt his heart like a bullet to the chest to hear how terribly forlorn and empty she sounded, and all he wanted was to bring her back. To convince her that everything would be ok again. That maybe even though it might never be safe, that it might never be the world that had been, that it would still be worth living in. That there were reasons to hope, and to be happy. He had the feeling that she had lost her sense of real purpose, and it hadn't been when Rick had turned her out from the prison, but long before then. He would have given anything to see it renewed. He wished he had the same skill that Beth did, he wished that he could inspire Carol the same way Beth had inspired him, but that was not one of his talents it seemed.

Yet when that car with the white cross had gone racing by, she'd followed him without question. It gave him comfort to have her at his side. She wasn't like Beth in the sense he'd have to protect her from every threat that they came across. He knew she was more than capable of looking after herself. He knew with Carol it was always going to be the emotionality, her bleak and frigid outlook on the world that would be her undoing. He didn't know how to help her, but he wasn't going to give up on her. Never. She meant too much to him, she'd been a huge part of the reason why he'd embraced the group as his family, and for that, he knew he'd go further for her than almost anyone.

Going into the city was like stepping into another version of hell. It was dark, bleak, almost lifeless, but he knew that around every corner could be a herd of Walkers that were ready to rip him to shreds. In years past, nobody would have ever dared risked coming into Atlanta, no matter the stakes. But they were different than they had been when this had all started. They were smarter now, more cunning, better able to think on their feet and improvise and use the tools they had learned surviving in the wilds and apply them to the city. He wondered if Beth, wherever she was, was out here somewhere, running, hiding, stalking through the streets, scavenging supplies, trying to find her way out of the city and back into the wilderness, looking for her family. He was terrified that he had lost her forever, that this was all for naught and he'd never know her fate. He knew that the group wanted to go to D.C. and he certainly didn't mind the idea of finding an honest to God cure, but he didn't want to leave without her, or without knowing what had happened. The thought of never knowing, of maybe even leaving her behind, it twisted violently inside him, making him feel physically sick.

Carol led them to the battered women's shelter, and they both could hear the Walkers panting and scrabbling behind the frosted glass. They both knew there were children, or what had once been children, behind that door, and he knew how much it hurt her. She had her hand on her knife, ready to deal with it, to end them because she couldn't bare the thought of a child being turned into such a monster, an echo of the past of pain that was far too close to home.

_"You don't have to." _He wanted her to know that it wasn't just her burden to bear. She didn't have to shoulder so much weight, responsibility, and pain on her own. No wonder it was breaking her- the thought that she had no security unless it was her own making. She tried to open the door but this time he was determined to make her listen. His hand flashed out and his fingers curled around her wrist, feeling the wire tight tension and coiled power there. His grip was tight but his voice was soft.

_"You don't." _

She relaxed by the smallest margin and he let go. He didn't know what to make of her just yet. He didn't know if he was going to be able to pull her back. He could see how cold and pale her eyes were, how listless she seemed, despite that she was here with him. How she was stuck churning in the past, all the things she regretted, all the nightmares that had sunk their claws in and refused to let go. Maybe it was seeing someone he loved so much so ensnared by the demons of what couldn't be changed had been the driving force for him to pick up that damn book. Overcoming Childhood Abuse.

He didn't know if it was going to help. He didn't know if words could repair the damage that he wore on his body, that was written into his skin, spelled out in the scars that would never fully heal, but he wanted to try. He knew who had given him the will to try, and he didn't know if it hurt that it wasn't the woman beside him like he had thought it would be. It was the girl with white gold hair, winter sky eyes, and a voice like birdsong at dawn. It was the girl who defied him, challenged him, who kept him from falling apart, all in the same moment. He didn't know if this was going to help him, or if it would make any difference at all. He didn't know if this one thing could turn him into a man that would no longer shudder at the idea of being touched, but he knew it was better than nothing. It was better than turning into ashes that were blowing like dust in the wind.

Neither of them slept well that night, but he woke before Carol had, and decided now was as good a time as any in order to deal with those Walkers. He wrapped them up before carrying them to the fire he'd started, and he became glad he had when Carol approached him as he went about his work. He'd felt the appreciation and thankfulness from Carol and that had been enough for him at the time. Anything he could do to show her that she didn't have to fight this losing war on her own was ok by him. He would go to the ends of the earth and back for the rare few that had earned his loyalty and his love, and he didn't mind. Having something to do was a gift honestly, and that he could put himself to use for the ones he loved- it made him feel like their appreciation and thanks was deserved.

Being confronted by that skinny kid and stripped of weapons, it wasn't right, but it wasn't right for Carol to try and take a lethal shot at him. It wasn't as if Daryl liked being stripped of the vast majority of his protection, but he was just a kid trying to survive. He couldn't exactly blame him, and it didn't warrant trying to kill him. It was just one more nail pounding into the coffin of who Carol had been, and it actually pissed him off that right when he was finding out who he was, and finding out that he was ok with hoping for something better, one of the people he loved the most was unraveling right beside him. Why couldn't things be easy, just one fucking time in his whole life? He didn't get to question it though, because right when he was practically spitting with rage, the tables turned.

They'd found the kid, Noah, and he was damn near about to be turned into Walker chow, and Carol was pleading with him to save his life. He didn't understand the turn of events, why she was all of a sudden pleading with him to save the life of someone who had essentially left them to die, someone he thought she might have killed if he hadn't of stopped her. He took a deep drag on the cigarette he'd plucked out of the kid's pack and felt his lungs protest and his nicotine deprived brain rejoice, and maybe it was the haze of smoke and that first hit of a cigarette after so long that convinced him. A single arrow, expertly placed, and the kid was saved from being cannon fodder. Maybe it was because Carol was begging. Maybe it was because honestly, except for people like the Governor and the monsters in Terminus, nobody deserved to be eaten alive. Maybe it was because saving this kid was what Beth would have wanted.

Or hell, maybe it was just fate intervening, because not ten minutes later was the kid telling him he knew Beth. He knew her. He'd seen her alive, not a day before, that she had helped him escape from the hospital she was being held at, and that he was willing to go back and help rescue her. It turned the tables all over again, and Daryl was willing to roll with the punches because now how close was he to his beloved candle? He could practically feel her against him, shivering but steady, mending over the cracks in him, willing him on, giving him a purpose.

Seeing Carol hit by the very same car that had stolen Beth nearly turned him feral. Noah was barely able to hold him back, and the only reason he didn't go pelting after them was because he knew that she needed medical treatment far more than what the group was capable of. But he knew too that he and the kid weren't enough to rescue her and Beth. He was never going to let the two most important women in his life rot in that hospital which functioned much more like a prison. He was going to get them back, but he needed back up first. He brought Noah with him, deciding that his original assessment of the kid as someone just desperate to survive had been accurate. If they all made it out of this alive, he'd be a good addition to the group. He might have a gimp leg, but if he'd survived that long in Atlanta, and in the hospital, he knew how to handle himself.

He disliked Rick's plan for a sneak attack. He didn't want violence in his life anymore. He was willing to use it if he had to, he knew more about it than most people did, having been so exposed to it in his life even before the world ended, but that didn't mean he thought it was the best course of action. He knew why Rick was leaning towards it these days. He knew about the monster that lived beneath his best friend's skin. He knew how difficult it was for Rick to wrap a leash around the monster's throat and hold him down. He'd seen the destruction at the church, the bloodstains, the spattered brains and chunks of flesh that were the remains of the Terminus members that Rick and the others had slaughtered. He'd seen Rick's savagery first hand, and also had seen the guilt for such actions fall away. He didn't blame his friend in the least, but that didn't mean it didn't unnerve him, or didn't give him a reason to try and stay his friend's hand if at all possible. He wanted Rick to be as much of the man he had been as he could be. This world needed men like that. There were enough monsters roaming its streets, both dead and alive.

The hostage trade filled him with coiling dread deep in the pit of his stomach. Carol had first been handed over and he was grateful to see her get back up on her feet. He knew she'd finish healing in time, he could see into her eyes and the willingness to continue to fight for her life.

Looking up and seeing Beth standing there and even though she was not yet theirs, not yet his, he saw the fire in her, burning as bright as the sun glows after a raging storm, it filled him with a steady confidence. They had done the right thing. Seeking a path of peace rather than bloodshed had been the right call. Their gazes had met across the hall and he could tell she was still in battle mode. She didn't have to say a word for him to understand that she absolutely didn't trust anything about this situation, and that he should still be on his guard, and so he steeled himself over, ready for anything that might happen.

When she crossed the line and returned to their side, it was all he could do not to pull her tight into him as he had done with Carol in the woods. He would have, if he had not seen the fire burning in her eyes and known that it was not yet over. His every instinct was urging him to take her, the rest of his family, and run, and never come back to this horrible place ever again. They'd got what they'd come for, it was time to leave and let this all become a horrible memory, the time when he'd almost lost the most precious thing in the world to him.

Beth turned, full of defiance, and faced her captor down. Daryl had seen her angry, he'd seen her indignant, but he'd never seen her like this. So full of surety and decisive action, so ready and willing to lay down her own brand of justice. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect from her as she faced down her captor.

_"I get it now." _Her voice was full of not venom but the strength to exact a blood price of her own, and that price came when she slammed a pair of scissors straight into the rogue cop's neck.

Blood spurted out in great scarlet arcs as a bullet discharged and slammed into the floor, shattering chunks of linoleum and concrete as Beth yanked the scissors back and darted back to her family right as Daryl and Rick drew their pistols. Daryl's free hand lunged forward and gripped Beth's upper arm tightly, drawing her back into the protective fold of the group, stepping in front of her to shield her as the other armed cops of the hospital drew their pistols as Dawn fell to the floor, rapidly bleeding out, a scarlet flood beginning to coat the edges of their boots as she twitched on the floor.

"It was only her," Beth spoke from behind her protective cage. "The rest are ok."

"We don't want any more trouble," the doctor of the hospital said almost frantically. "Just go!"

The group began to shuffle backwards, still holding their guns out nice and tight, fingers firmly affixed to triggers, the muzzles aimed at the hospital members until they rounded the corner. Once that corner was turned, they pelted like bullets fire from a gun to escape, to flee back into the sunlight and into safety. Probably none of them would have ever thought that the city streets of Atlanta would feel like safety, but compared to that cripplingly dark tomb of a hospital, it felt like a new planet, ready for the taking.

Daryl hadn't even been able to get the words out when they stepped into the ambulance bay and saw the other members of the group they had left behind at the far edge of the lot. Maggie dropped her rifle and came pelting towards her sister, colliding with the younger girl so hard they almost tumbled into the asphalt, both of them clutching each other so tightly Daryl was sure neither of them could breathe. Happy tears spilled down each other's faces as they squeezed and gripped, hanging on for dear life, gasping whispers of joy radiating from both of them.

They broke apart after what felt like far too short of an embrace and Beth hurriedly hugged Glenn as well, a beaming smile on her face, before turning to Michonne and rapidly embracing her too, and then Carl as well, purring over Judith, immediately picking the baby up and swinging her in her arms, a smile as bright as the sun itself radiating from her lips as the baby giggled and squealed happily, obviously recognizing her caretaker as having returned to her. Daryl could only look on and smile quietly but still from the very middle of himself as he watched the reunions unfolding.

Rick quickly urged them to retreat, that it was not safe in this place, and they all began to move towards their vehicles. It didn't take long before Glenn and Maggie filled Beth in on about Eugene and his posse of protectors, and then to the entire rest of the group the lie that they had uncovered. For some reason, Daryl didn't take it as nearly as hard as a few of them were. Maybe it was because he had never been big on future planning. Maybe it was because he wasn't surprised that the universe kept trying to steal good things away from them. Maybe it was because he really and truly didn't give a fuck right now. He had Beth back. He was with his family, everyone was alive, everyone was safe. They would figure out a plan for themselves, they always had before. He didn't care what was in the future. He had now, and now was as close to perfect as he figured he was ever going to get.

It was late that night, after the group bunked in an old warehouse on the very outskirts of the city that he finally had the chance to reunite with Beth one on one. They'd all eaten a very small meal and decided to just focus on clearing out of the city before trying to figure out a long term plan, and he was standing in the doorway of the warehouse, keeping watch, when he'd felt her come up behind him.

At first he didn't know what to say. What could he say really? All he could feel was actual happiness and relief. He knew what he wanted, but in front of the eyes of so many others, the shyness and uncertainty had returned. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at her steadily, waiting for the silence to break, or maybe it never would, and that would have been ok too, but she was better with words than he would ever be.

"You came for me," she said softly. "I didn't think it was possible."

He cocked an eyebrow at her and shifted his weight. "Ya think I'd of left ya to rot in there?"

She shook her head quickly. "No. I just didn't think it was possible."

"Ya helped Noah get out. Ya didn't think you could make it?"

She shrugged. "I didn't know if I could or not. I knew I had to do something about Dawn, and I was going to days ago, but then Carol came in and I had to wait."

Daryl nodded and turned his head to the side for a second before turning back. "Why'dya kill her?" It turned his stomach the wrong way to think of little Beth killing a living person, even if it was Dawn.

"She was bad," Beth said simply. "She let things go on in that place that were sick. She knew it was happening and she didn't do anything to stop it. That place wasn't a refuge. It was a prison, and once you went in, you were never getting out. She'd talk about working off your debt, but honestly, what kind of person makes you work off saving your life? Especially when you didn't ask for it." She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, turning back to look him in the eye again, pulling her gaze from the empty street. "If she would have just let us go, I would have let her live. But when she asked for Noah back, she just proved that she was never going to change. You can't own people."

Daryl nodded. "Some people are ok being owned."

Beth met his eyes steadily, understanding and warmth simmering deep in her pupils. "You're not."

"I was," he admitted very softly.

"We were all something else before," she told him. She pushed herself up off the doorframe and crossed the small gap between them and took him by the hand as fearless as the night was long. She curled their fingers together and leaned against him and he felt her exhale a long breath that he was pretty sure they'd both been holding.

"Thank you, Daryl," she whispered into his arm as she tightened her grip on his hand. He was sure he felt her go slack against him, relaxing maybe for the first time since she'd been stolen from the road and his side.

"Ain't nothin', Beth. It's just what we do."

She looked up at him and smiled in that quiet but profound way and exhaled again and he felt heat burn through him from the very middle of himself, so intense he was certain that as long as she never left his side he would never feel cold again. It made him quiver, even as she continued to hold onto him and without warning or without being asked, she burrowed herself against his side, wrapping her arms around his mid section and pressing her face against his chest. And this time, he didn't care if the world was watching. He pushed aside the shaking and the fear and the uncertainty and encircled her with his arms, taking this one small thing for himself, because God only knew he needed it. He leaned his cheek against the crown of her head and inhaled, taking in the smell of her hair, just like honeysuckles and meadow grass and almost smiled, his heart filling with so many different emotions he wasn't sure he contain it all. Thoughts of a future flickered against the back of his eyelids but for the moment he banished them away and just concentrated on what was right in front of him, because tomorrow was never promised to anybody in this world, and this right here was so much more than he ever could have hoped for.

Something inside him said that this was wrong, but he couldn't make himself stop. He'd been given so little in his life, he didn't think anybody but himself would find fault if he held on for his a little while longer. He wasn't what she needed. She needed someone younger, someone who didn't wear the cruelty of the world on his skin, someone who didn't cower at the thought of a future he couldn't picture. All of this with her, though they were as still as a July night without wind, felt like plunging headlong into a hurricane, and he knew he was shaking in her grip now. He was sure she would pull away and chide him but she didn't. Instead she twisted just a bit and looked up at him, her eyes shimmering like winter stars in a sky that hung so high over his head he knew he'd die before he could make the climb to reach them.

"It's ok," she whispered. "We're not going anywhere."

He wasn't sure who disentangled themselves first but it probably didn't matter, because she stayed with him all night and didn't let go of his hand the entire time. He didn't know what would happen next. He couldn't picture a future. Maybe he didn't even want to. All he knew was this right here, this feeling of her hand in his, the sound of her breath gently drifting over his ears, the heat of her near his skin was enough. And if he never had anything else in his life that made it worth living, this would always be the one thing he hung onto. She'd always be the one that made him want more, and maybe that was what made him love her so much more than he ever knew he was capable of. Maybe they'd figure out what that word really meant, but for now, it meant this. The steadiness of holding each other's hand and watching the night turn its tricks while they guarded their family. It wasn't what most people wanted. It wasn't what most people could have coped with, stuck somewhere between too much and not enough. But they weren't the rest of the world, and that was ok.

And he'd never let go of this as long as he lived.


End file.
